


Romanticize

by noodroid



Series: All These Colors [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, this is me projecting one night lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 19:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodroid/pseuds/noodroid
Summary: φ A WooChan Storyφ Hanahaki disease, an affliction which causes flowers to bloom in the affected's lungs when their love is unrequited. It hurts. It's suffocating. Nobody speaks of it. Ultimately, it only makes things worse for them.TRIGGER WARNINGS: psychiatric hospitalization, graphic depictions of difficulty breathing akin to a panic attack





	Romanticize

It happens the first time he sees Kim Woojin. Chan throws the private recording room door open, then doubles over as he points at the brown haired man who stands staring at him with wide eyes and some fear written across his face.  
  
He doubles over and he dry heaves. "Shit!" he pants out, still pointing at the man. "Shit! Sorry, I literally ran down the hallway when I heard you sing. I also just finished drinking an extra large milkshake. I don't think I-- Wait! Wait! I'm Bang Chan and dude, I need your voice for my track."  
  
The man just stares at him with a face that says _excuse me_ and also  _what the fuck_ and also a bit of _I'm flattered_. But mostly, the man just stares at him with annoyance.

"Hey, Chan. This is Woojin. I already got him for our track. I literally told you about it yesterday, you gigantic asshole, *and* I already told you that I had booked this room so we could record."  
  
Chan stands up, suddenly realizing Changbin was sitting on the couch behind the man-- Woojin. Behind Woojin. This whole time.  
  
"Oh. Well, uh, sorry. I didn't mean to--"  
  
"Hey, Changbin! Hi, Woojin. Nice to see you again." Behind Chan, Han Jisung strolls in, sipping happily on a milkshake of his own. "I told him this was the room we rented but he'd already run up the stairs," he tattled.  
  
"Oh, are those ours? I hope you actually got the order right this time." Changbin snatches the drink tray from Jisung, holding it out to Woojin. "We were going over the lyrics. Surprisingly, they're pretty good. Who know Sungie here could write so well?"  
  
Woojin still stares at Chan, who stares back with a bright grin. "Uh, hi, guys. I'm... Kim Woojin. I'm a senior here. I'm majoring in teaching and music theory. I'm gonna be a vocal coach."  
  
Jisung drapes an arm around Changbin's shoulders, nuzzling his face into the other man's cheek. "I got your order right! Woojin, you have great vocal control, you know. We could hear you clearly down the stairway. It's really impressive!"  
  
Woojin turns his attention to Jisung, smiling bashfully. He runs a hand through his hair, staring at the floor. "Thanks. Singing is my passion. I've worked hard for a lot of years."  
  
When his attention turns back to Chan, another wave of nausea hits him. He crouches down, placing his head between his knees. He feels a tightness in his throat. He coughs gently.  
  
There's a bitter, earthy taste in his mouth. He swallows something down. It scratches his throat.  
  
He brushes it off as nothing.

 

The second time it happens, Chan stands watching Woojin record through the sound booth. The sound of his honey smooth voice drifts through the speakers and Chan bobs his head in time to the beat.  
  
Woojin opens his eyes and they make eye contact. His eyes smile as he sings.  
  
Chan coughs and feels something sticky in his throat. He coughs again and feels something begin to come up. He swallows it down, making a face at the strange, earthy taste.

 

The third time it happens, Chan sits next to Woojin in the studio on the couch. They're making changes to a sheet of music. Woojin moves just close enough and his arm presses into Chan's.  
  
Chan feels his whole face turn red. He forces himself to stay concentrated as the other man gives him suggestions on what to change in the song. He suddenly takes a deep breath, feeling his chest become tight. He suddenly moves from Woojin, coughing again.  
  
He tries to cough, but just gasps gently for air. Woojin places a hand on his arm.  
  
Chan excuses himself. He gasps for breath outside of the studio door, coughing so hard he starts to dry heave. Woojin walks out to check on him just as Chan feels himself cough up a small, mucous-y lump of something.  
  
They both exchange disgusted faces.  
  
They do become much closer after that incidence, though.

 

The fourth time it happens is two months later. Chan sits with paper spread out across his desk. He stares out of focus at the computer in front of him. The words won't come to him, the track doesn't sound right, something is missing. He readjusts his headphones, grinding his teeth together in annoyance.  
  
He jumps when a hand is placed on his shoulder. He leans his head sleepily on it when he realizes it's just Woojin. He must have been sleeping over to work on something with Changbin.  
  
Chan turns the volume down when he feels the older man squeeze his shoulder gently. He yawns loudly, turning to look at him.  
  
He's dyed his hair blonde. Woojin grins as he watches the realization dawn over Chan's face.  
  
"Wow, it looks so... Cool. I can't believe you, Kim Woojin, look cool!"  
  
Woojin moves his hand from his shoulder, flicking Chan lightly in the back of the head. "It's nearly 3 am. Don't you have class at 7?"  
  
Chan waves a hand to dismiss him. "Yeah, but I have this invention called a Keurig. It makes coffee. Have you heard of coffee? It's good."  
  
Woojin doesn't smile at Chan's joke. "Come on, Chan. Changbin said this is the fourth day this week that you haven't slept much." His voice is soft and concerned.  
  
It sounds the same way Jisung's did when--  
  
Never mind.  
  
Chan doesn't have the heart to tell him that he hasn't slept more than four hours a night since he started his junior year of college this year. "Yeah, but I have to finish this track. I promised Changbin--"  
  
"Changbin can fuck off."  
  
Chan looks at Woojin as if he's just seen him kick a puppy. His mouth agape, he tries to form words, but none come.  
  
"I'm serious, Chan. You need some sleep. You look terrible. Please?"  
  
Chan feels the tightening in his throat come back. He coughs, shrugging. "I'll go once I'm done, Woojin. You can leave now. You don't have to baby me. I still have some homework to do anyway. I'll work on that then I'll go to bed instead of finishing this track."  
  
Woojin frowns. He turns, not saying anything else. He leaves.  
  
As soon as the door closes, Chan shoves himself back from the desk and doubles over. He coughs once, then twice, then feels himself choke. He panics and goes to stand up, only to fall out the chair.  
  
As his knees impact against the ground, he chokes heavily but coughs up something immediately. A disgusting, earthy taste is distinctly mixed in with the acidic bile he feels.  
  
A single, bright yellow tulip, stem and all, sits on the ground in front of him.  
  
"What the fuck."

 

Chan watches Woojin from the corner of the room, guilt still wracking him. It's been weeks since he coughed up the flower, weeks since he last spoke with Woojin, and weeks since he realized he needed to apologize. Yet, every time he tried to text him, call him, or even pull him aside, that sick feeling rose in his stomach. Lately, he'd even been having trouble breathing.  
  
He finally had the guts to apologize. A text asking him to get coffee after he finished assisting with the choir group, an agreement, and now, here Chan was. The odd, sick sensation rose in his chest again, causing him to take odd gasps of breath as he watched.  
  
Woojin stands, oblivious to the strange behavior, re-positioning a freshman named Seungmin to guide him on his breathing. Next to Chan, someone else sits down, watching the pair as well.  
  
"Woojin's pretty cool, isn't he?" the someone whispers.  
  
Chan looks over, smiling at the newcomer. "He is. He's really talented. The choir is lucky to have secured him as a student teacher this year."  
  
"I'm Hwang Hyunjin. Have we met before? You look familiar."  
  
Chan laughs, looking away, embarrassed. "We haven't, but I do a lot around campus. I do a lot of DJ'ing at parties. I also do a lot of sound mixing for various groups and people."  
  
"Oh! That's why you look familiar. You know Seungmin, right?"  
  
"Ah, yeah. Seungminnie there has quite the voice, doesn't he? He's helped me on a few of my tracks."  
  
Hyunjin forms a perfect 'o' with his mouth, eyes wide. "What! Seriously?! Seungmin didn't tell me that! What an asshole!" He places his arms over his chest, a pout that reminds Chan far too much of Jisung forming. "Seungmin never lets me listen to him sing for real. I usually just have to sneak up on him during practice or hear him since in his groups."  
  
Chan laughs gently, patting Hyunjin on the shoulder. "Well, you get to hear it today, don't you?"  
  
Hyunjin looks away, a blush forming on his face. He coughs, then clears his throat. "Ah, excuse me. I'll be back in a moment."  
  
It takes almost ten minutes for Chan to get worried about where the kid named Hyunjin has wandered off to. Seungmin has begun singing and Chan, for one, was not about to let Hyunjin go without hearing this boy go without hearing him sing.  
  
Okay, so maybe he was being a bit too nosy and-- _Wait is that someone throwing up?_  
  
"Holy shit."  
  
"Fuck, go. Get out. Get out!"  
  
Chan stares down at Hyunjin from the practice room a few rooms down. In front of him, what seems to be a destroyed bush of gardenia lays spread out. Hyunjin, panicked, begins to scoop them towards him in a desperate attempt to hide them. He gasps for air at the moment, before coughing again as more gardenia petals and leaves burst from his mouth.  
  
"No, get out, please," he sobs out as Chan kneels next to him.  
  
"Hyunjin... I do it, too. I did it a few weeks ago. What is it? What's happening to us?" Chan's voice is begging, desperate. He wraps an arm around his new friend's shoulders, pulling him close.  
  
Hyunjin shoves his face into Chan's shoulder, sobbing. "It started when I realized I was in love with Kim Seungmin our last year of school. He doesn't know, Chan. I looked it up. I got scared. They say it happens when we're in love and we won't be loved back. I don't... I can't..."  
  
Hyunjin begins to sob again, leaning further into Chan. He stares into the darkness, suddenly numb.  
  
He chokes. He coughs gently. Flower petals fall out of his mouth and the familiar, earthy, bitter, acidic taste of bile fills his mouth.  
  
Hyunjin pulls away, shaking the flower petals off his head. "Oh. I coughed these up, too, at some point." He sniffs deeply, wiping at his nose. "They're anemone."  
  
Chan stares at the boy covered in the flower petals from his mouth. He realizes that the last time, it was a single tulip. He realizes it was when he met Woojin. He realizes too many things at once.  
  
He gets up. He leaves without a word.  
  
Woojin looks for him later. He doesn't open the apartment door when he knocks.  
  
The fifth time it's happened, Chan feels betrayed and destroyed.

 

A week later, Chan stares blankly at Woojin. The older man stares down at him, frowning.  
  
"You still look terrible, Chan. You look worse, actually."  
  
"Woojin, I have to get--"  
  
"No. You know what, Chan? No. You don't get to run off again. You don't get to hide. I'm sure you have some pressing matter to attend to, but what's wrong with you?"  
  
Chan looks away. He avoids eye contact now, shrugging. "I've been busy."  
  
"So busy that you skipped out on our meeting a week ago? So busy that you avoided Changbin and Jisung asking you to come to listen to a new track? Jisung was proud of it, you know. It sounded great. He did amazing."  
  
Chan just shrugs again. "I have stuff to do, Woojin. Come on, move." He tries to push past Woojin. He makes it just far enough that his shoulder check pushes the other back. Woojin stops him, though, and grabs him by the arm. He pulls him back to stare down at him.  
  
For the first time, Chan realizes that Woojin looks panicked and exhausted.  
  
"You need to stop this, Chan. Just ask for help. Please. Please just ask us for help because this won't stop until you do. We can't help you until you ask us! You won't get better if you don't let us help you!"  
  
Chan feels it again and he panics. He feels the tightening in his chest, how hard it is to suddenly breathe. He gasps for air and feels tears come to his eyes. "Woo-Woojin. Pl-please," he gasps out, trying to pull away. He sees white spots in his vision. Panic consumes him and he tries harder to get away, finding it harder than ever to breathe.  
  
"No! Jisung told me. He told me what happened last time and I'm scar-- Fuck. Chan? Chan!"  
  
Chan's world goes white, then black.  
  
The sixth time it happens, yellow chrysanthemums cover Chan as Woojin catches him when he passes out.

 

When Chan comes home, there's no welcoming party. There's nothing but the fear of the silence of his shared apartment and the fear of seeing Woojin that consumes him.  
  
"Maybe I should have stayed in the hospital longer," he mumbles.  
  
Changbin and Jisung exchange worried looks. Jisung reaches out, placing a hand on the middle of his back. "If you need to go back--"  
  
"No, it's not that." Chan sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "It's just Woo--"  
  
"Woojin isn't going to come here if you don't want him to." Changbin's voice is stern and definite. "I don't know what's happening between you two, but if that's what you need, then that's what we'll give you."  
  
The door closes behind them as they walk in. Chan stares at the familiar apartment, frowning as he sees Jisung's duffel bag and clothes piled on the recliner.  
  
"I've been staying here while you were gone," Jisung shrugs. He tosses Chan's bag onto the couch, turning on the light in the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"  
  
"Has Woojin asked about me? Did he say what happened that day?"  
  
Changbin and Jisung exchange looks.  
  
"It's-- It's fine. Just tell me." Chan takes a deep breath, shaking his head. "If I don't ask now I'm going to worry about it. He already told me that you told him about the last time I was hospitalized, anyway, Jisung."  
  
At that, Jisung looks guilty. He takes a deep breath before launching into a quick paced ramble. "He blames himself, Chan. He thinks he's the reason you landed in the hospital. He thinks he's the reason you had the breakdown. Woojin really thinks he's the reason that you-- Woojin's really worried. All he said was that he cornered you, pushed you into feeling so guilty, then you had a panic attack, then you passed out."  
  
Changbin sits down on the couch, draping an arm around the back as he turns to watch Chan walk into the kitchen. "He hasn't talked to either of us since we met him at the emergency room just before they sent you to the other hospital."  
  
Chan grabs his water bottle off of the drying rack and fills it. He takes a long drink before looking at the sink and staring into it for a moment.  
"I'm in love with Woojin, you know."  
  
Jisung drops his container of ramen on the floor with a start. He stares at Chan, who doesn't look up.  
  
"I'm in love with Woojin and he won't love me back. I keep up coughing up these flowers. It makes it hard to breathe. It wasn't a panic attack. I couldn't breathe. I stopped being able to breathe and then I passed out because Woojin just... He won't love me back. That's what the flowers mean. That he won't love me back."  
  
Jisung wraps his arms around Chan's and places his head against his. "I'm sorry," is all he says.

 

The next time Chan sees Woojin is a few weeks later. Chan lays on the couch of the recording studio, staring at the ceiling. His lyric book lays open on the ground, sheets of music littering the floor with empty cups of coffee.  
  
Insomnia makes the edges of his brain feel fuzzy. He hoped that working on a track somewhere other than his own room would take away the feeling of suffocation he felt, maybe let him fall asleep, but nothing was helping.  
  
"Chan?"  
  
"Hey, Woojin." He doesn't bother to sit up or even look at the other man. He doesn't even change his position at all.  
  
"Sorry, I thought the room would be empty. It's... It's nearly 3 am, Chan. Why are you here?"  
  
Chan finally pushes himself up onto his elbows, looking at Woojin. The man looks exhausted, pale, and miserable. He looks scared, above all else, like a prey animal ready to run at any second.  
  
"I couldn't sleep. I thought walking the half hour to the studio, taking the stairs, and making my brain work would help tire me out." He shrugs idly, laying back down. "Guess not."  
  
"Let me drive you back to you house," Woojin whispers. He steps closer, but Chan can hear his footsteps falter.  
  
"You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm depressed, not a fucking murderer," he snaps, bitterly.  
  
"That's not-- No, Chan. I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of--"  
  
Chan sits up now, glaring at Woojin. The taller man seems to shrink from his gaze. "What, Woojin? What, are you afraid that I'm too delicate now? That I'm too much? Are you afraid that I'm going to snap again? Do you really think you have that much power over me? That you get to waltz into my life, make me fall in love with you, make me cough up those fucking flowers, then fucking disappear because I'm... I'm what? Too crazy for you?"  
  
Woojin just stares, lips parted slightly. He tries to say something, repeatedly, but fails. He goes to move closer again, but Chan ducks down to scoop up all of his papers. He stops at this, shutting his mouth and watching.  
  
"You don't get to do this to me, Woojin. You don't-- You don't get to act like you care then just disappear on me. You don't get to pretend to be my friend then ditch when things get rough. You don't get to do any of this to me! You don't! You don't get to," and suddenly, Chan stops. He falls to his knees, feeling sobs build up in his chest. He gasps for air, suddenly feeling his breathing come in sharp gasps.  
  
"You don't get--" He takes a deep breath, then coughs. He tastes the earthy, bitter taste mixed with bile and he lets out a yell of annoyance. It comes out choked, daffodil petals and leaves falling from his lips and onto the ground.  
  
"God! Chan, stop! Stop freaking out!" Woojin finally yells. Chan moves away, choking up more flowers as Woojin runs to him and gets down on his knees.  
  
Woojin, once again, doesn't let him get too far. He grabs onto Chan's wrist, forcing him to turn to him. Chan avoids his eyes, gagging as more petals come out.  
  
"Stop, Chan! Stop just-- stop hiding! I told you already, just tell me. You didn't have to tell me like this. You didn't have to tell me you loved me like this. I-- I wanted to know some way else, not like this. I wanted to tell you that I realized I love you in any other situation!"  
  
And just like that, the pressure in Chan's chest begins to dissipate. He feels his breath come back and he pants, staring at Woojin in shock. The other sighs deeply, raising his free hand to cup Chan's cheek.  
  
"I'm sorry, Chan. I'm sorry. I didn't run away. I just knew you would need space. I thought you'd come to me when you were ready. I was waiting and I'm sorry, Chan. I am. I'm so sorry."  
  
The last of the petals fall from Chan's mouth. His breathing evens out and he leans against Woojin's hand. They watch each other in silence for a few moments, Chan trying to catch up on his breaths.  
  
"The flowers are supposed to mean you won't love me back. That's why they sit in my lungs. The feeling of you never loving me back, it hurt just as much as they did."  
  
"How could I not love you, Chan? I tried so much to reach out to you but you always pushed me away. I thought you wouldn't love me, but I still tried, because how could I not?"  
  
Chan pulls his wrist from Woojin's hand, pulling him closer by the shoulders. Woojin moves easily to him, a hand placing on the small of Chan's back gently as soon as he can.  
  
"How could someone not love you, Chan?" Woojin asks again, closing the gap between them.  
  
Chan feels all the breaths he's missed over the months come back to him as their lips meet. He feels the anxiety of unrequited love fall away from him, the guilt of what was happening washing off of him.  
  
When they part, Woojin presses their foreheads together and whispers softly,  
  
"How could anyone, anyone at all, not love you?"

**Author's Note:**

> [♡i'm seungshiny on tumblr!♡](http://seungshiny.tumblr.com)


End file.
